


A Meeting in The Palace (For No Particular Reason)

by braigwen_s



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cover Havelock With Puppies Agenda, Don't Give Animals As Gifts In Real Life Folks!, Fluff, Gen, Multi, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen_s/pseuds/braigwen_s
Summary: Mr von Lipwig has just taken full custody of Mr Fusspot.  The Times gang finds a puppy that is in need of a loving home.
Relationships: Moist von Lipwig & Havelock Vetinari, Otto von Chriek/Sacharissa Cripslock/William de Worde, Rufus Drumknott & Havelock Vetinari, William de Worde & Havelock Vetinari
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	A Meeting in The Palace (For No Particular Reason)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gemothy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemothy/gifts).



Something made Moist hesitate. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch, Mr Lipwig. You have proved yourself capable of caring for the Chairman.”

Moist scooped up the waggling dog into his arms, looking at it. He looked back at Vetinari. “Are you sure?” he asked. The dog wriggled one leg free, wheezing at Vetinari. It was trying to get back to him; Moist felt rotten.

“Of course I’m sure, Mr Lipwig.”

So that was that. He’d have to tell Adora Belle they had a dog now. It could have been worse, though; at least Adora was human. Some other species equated adopting a dog to adopting one’s own child.

“I just,” Otto von Chriek was saying, “I just do not feel I am ready to be havink a child.”

Otto was hundreds of years old, but William didn't point this out. “I can’t put him back onto the streets,” he said instead, pleading, his hair messy. The limping, brown-black-and-gold mutt puppy he was holding whimpered.

Sacharissa gnawed on the inside of her lip. “I’m sorry, William,” she said, “but I’m agreeing with Otto right now. It’s just that we’re so busy with the expansion of The Times…”

The puppy made a hopeful, loving noise. Sacharissa melted.

“I do not trust myself,” said Otto, turning away. “I am meanink… it is a dog. Historically, Vampires are not…”

William sighed, and patted Otto on the shoulder. “We’ll just find another home for him,” he said. “That shouldn’t be too hard to do.”

Sacharissa took a pencil from behind her ear and rummaged around William’s desk. “William,” she said, “you have a meeting with the Patrician tomorrow morning.”

“Go on,” said William.

“And he has just lost ze bank chairman!” exclaimed Otto, turning back round. He kissed Sacharissa on the lips, who smiled and pushed him back.

“Spell it out for me, please, dears,” said William.

Sacharissa’s smile had a slight edge. “You’re going to get the P-A-T-R-I-C-I-A-N to find a L-O-V-I-N-G H-O-M-E for the V-E-R-Y C-U-T-E W-H-E-L-P that you’re holding.”

“To find a loving home?” asked William, suspiciously.

“Wherever it may be,” said Sacharissa. Otto brought his fingers up to his mouth to badly conceal titters, both of his wedding rings winking at William in the light. William twisted the two on his own hand, and gave into the double-sided spousal pressure.

The Patrician’s eyes widened and sparkled when he saw the wiggling shape in William’s coat burst out to reveal the head of a mismatched, heterochromatic puppy that seemed to be a mixture of several different species, including bull terrier and rottweiler. “My, Mr de Worde,” he said. “I didn’t know that you and your spouses had adopted.”

“We haven’t, sir,” he admitted, and carefully supported the puppy’s bum as he held it over across the desk. Vetinari took it without a single word, or even a raised eyebrow. As soon as it was in his arms, it seemed to settle. “A present from _The Times_ , my lord,” said William. He’d never thought he’d see joy and wonder on the man’s face, even if the face really belonged to Charlie. But this was by no means Charlie, because Charlie never had meetings, at least not with _The Times_ – he just sat or stood or reclined around, looking intimating and Vetinari-ish.

“I am sure Commander Vimes would construe this as bribery.” He examined the half-fluffy, half-pointed ears; he gently touched each of the four small legs; he ran a long, skinny hand along its back. “You’re an excellent boy, aren’t you?” he murmured. The tail wagged, and the puppy snuffled and yipped out of pure delight. William couldn’t help it; a broad smile split out across his face. The Patrician looked up at him, one eyebrow arched, and William hastily folded his smile away. “Was I talking to you?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said William. “You said that you were ‘sure Commander Vimes would construe this as bribery’.”

“Ah, indeed I was. What does The Times want from me, Mr de Worde? Oh, yes, indeed, you want attention, and quite rightly. Oh, good boy.”

This time, William turned away to hide his face, and only turned back when the Patrician had stopped talking to the puppy. “This isn’t a bribe, sir,” he. “It is a gift. We’re not asking for anything as a return.”

“Indeed?” asked Vetinari.

“Indeed, my lord,” said William.

“Good boy,” said the Patrician, for the second time in one minute, but it wasn’t spoken looking directly at the puppy in this instance, so William left the Oblong Office confused but gratefully undetained.

“That was nice of de Worde,” said Rufus Drumknott, entering the room.

Havelock Vetinari allowed Rufus to extend a loose fist, letting the puppy sniff at it. It began licking him, and Rufus withdrew the hand as politely as he was able. His Lordship seemed perfectly content to have it balanced back on his chest, licking his thin fingers, making high-pitched whines of distress that it was too small to express all of its affection at the one time.

“It was, indeed,” said His Lordship. “Do you know, I haven’t had a puppy for longer than de Worde has been alive.”

“Yes, sir,” said Drumknott. The Patrician looked happier, almost at peace. He had grieved long and quietly when Wuffles died, and while he had been fond of Mr Fusspot, that had always been intended as a temporary arrangement. This squirming, squalling puppy should have made Lord Vetinari look older and more agonized and world-wearied, by mere contrast, but the opposite seemed to be the case.

“Have a collar tag made for him, will you?” he asked, and Rufus nodded.

“Of course, my lord. What is his name?”

Drumknott watched His Lordship run his eyes over the mismatched, objectively ugly, enthusiastic little thing. “Samuel,” he decided, and held the puppy up to kiss its face.

Drumknott vanished to fulfil the instruction.

Alone in the Oblong Office, with a scraggly, if washed, street puppy climbing all over him, Havelock Vetinari felt a rough lick on his cheek, as his single and silent tear was wiped away. “Thank you,” he whispered, holding Samuel.


End file.
